


Hot Chocolate When It's Snowing

by Nyhne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, background Scotland/France, implied SwissAus, overprotective Switzerland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyhne/pseuds/Nyhne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And she liked things exactly how they were. Short, fluffy BelaLiech.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Chocolate When It's Snowing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a rare-pair secret santa in 2013. I don't usually write the ladies so it was a nice change- I really like the dynamics of these two.

Understanding their relationship couldn’t be done objectively.   
  
Switzerland claimed that Liechtenstein’s personal affairs were her own, but she never missed how his hand would tighten and his knuckles would turn white and there was a strain to the straight line of his mouth whenever it was brought up. Liechtenstein suspected that it had to do with Russia, more than anything, because Russia towered over him and was unpredictable and full of faux smiles that hinted to a sociopathic nature lurking just under rosy cheeks and violet eyes.   
  
Austria, from time to time, would make a polite comment of concern, stating as pretext that it was really none of his business, and that it was on Switzerland’s insistence that he was asking more than anything, as he drops another cube of sugar into her tea with initialed silver tongs.   
  
France asks, too; usually in the presence of Switzerland, because her big brother doesn’t like leaving him alone with her if he can help it. He’ll be talking of the latest date Scotland surprised him with and then, since they were on the topic, ask how things were between Mademoiselle and her Dame.    
  
Liechtenstein asked her once, what her side of relations thought of them. Belarus had shrugged and turned the collar of her coat up because it was wintertime and the wind added an extra nip to the air.   
  
“We don’t really talk about relationships much,” she had said.  
  
“Really?” Liechtenstein had blinked, tilting her head to the side as she kept up with the other’s long strides. “Why not?”  
  
Belarus had shrugged again, directing them left at the next street crossing. “Just don’t,” she’d answered. “A person’s business is their own, I guess.”  
  
“Oh….”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They had rounded another corner and Belarus had dug out the keys to her house, stomping her feet against the faded doormat and flipping on the light switch once they were out of the wind. Liechtenstein had taken off her jacket and hung it up on the peg next to Belarus’ coat, shivering as Belarus went to turn up the heat. She had gone to sit on the couch while she waited, hugging the blue lace pillow she liked so much (because the color made her think of cornflowers dotting a field) to her chest.   
  
“Sister’s glad.”  
  
“Pardon?” Liechtenstein had startled, looking up as Belarus came to sit on the couch.   
  
“What you had been asking about earlier,” Belarus had clarified, pulling at a thread on the bottom of her shirt. “My sister thinks it is…good for me to be with others. She worries too much.”  
  
“Oh….Well that’s good, then,” Liechtenstein had offered a smile.  
  
Belarus had nodded slowly but her attention was still on the end of her shirt, her long blonde hair curtaining her expression. “Brother is…suspicious, but he has more important things to worry about than what his little sister is doing.”  
  
Liechtenstein had wondered if there was a tone of bitterness to the other’s words, or if she had just imagined it.   
  
“Brother and I do not talk about personal matters very much,” she’d continued. “Although sometimes I think my sister wishes it were different.”  
  
“Do you?” Liechtenstein had asked.  
  
Belarus had taken a moment to turn and look at Liechtenstein with her wide, doe eyes and cherry nose still colored from the chill outside. Liechtenstein had thought she had seen a smile ghost the older’s lips, but Belarus was a master of guarded emotions and even Liechtenstein, as close as she was to the other, could not always see through the carefully fostered façade.   
  
“No,” Belarus had said, “I like things exactly how they are.”  
  
Liechtenstein hadn’t brought up the question since, because there was an understanding between them even if the others could not see it.   
  
And so she smiled at her brother and kissed his cheek whenever his hand would tense and his knuckles turned white and his mouth pressed into a slanted line, giving him her best assurances that she was _fine_ and they were _fine_ and Belarus was better than she could ever have wished for.   
  
And whenever Mr. Austria would forgetfully add one too many sugar cubes to her tea she would smile and thank him with a giggle behind her smile because she was just _fine_ and her big brother was always grumbling about Austria liking his tea too sweet.   
  
And to France she would smile at his brotherly concerns and respond, in a polite tone of voice, that they were very well, thank you.   
  
And with Belarus, who was sitting behind her running a comb through her short bob and refixing the purple ribbon so it would stay this time, she would give her best smile to, hands folded patiently in her lap as she watched their reflection in the mirror. And Liechtenstein would gather Belarus’ hair into a French braid and they would paint each other’s lips ridiculous shades because it was negative three out and the wind had created five foot drifts against the door anyway and Liechtenstein would fix them both hot chocolate from the mix in steaming white mugs.  
  
And while the December wind blew snow against the window like waves crashing against a beach, their mugs would sit side by side on the table each printed with the new color of their lips and Liechtenstein would think to herself that what others thought of them didn’t matter, and that she liked things exactly how they were. 


End file.
